


at the break of dawn

by wildpaul



Category: The Beatles, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, horny teenagers and morning woods, just some wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 15:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildpaul/pseuds/wildpaul
Summary: April, 1960.John and Paul are on a trip in Scotland, visiting Paul's cousin, Bett.~John couldn't fall asleep again so he continued listening to the faint thunders that were coming from afar. After some time they started to get longer and louder, which meant that the storm was coming closer.Then he heard the soft rustle of the sheets.





	at the break of dawn

**Author's Note:**

> While loosely based on [real life events](https://www.beatlesbible.com/tag/nerk-twins/), this is only **fiction**. I don't own John, Paul or the Beatles.

It was raining heavily. John could hear that the raindrops were tapping hard on the windowsill and on the roof above the little attic room. He tried to open his eyes but he felt so sleepy he decided to just lie there, enjoying the pleasing sounds of the spring rainfall.

He couldn't fall asleep again so he continued listening to the faint thunders that were coming from afar. After some time they started to get longer and louder, which meant that the storm was coming closer.

Then he heard the soft rustle of the sheets.

He opened his eyes. It took some time for him to get used to the dim lights in the room. He expected to find Paul awake, but once his vision became clearer, he realized that the boy on the other end of the bed was still asleep. Paul's hair, the usually perfectly adjusted quiff, was now sticking into all directions, a sight that almost made John laugh. Just like him, Paul had the thin blanket nearly up to his chin.

Judging by the weak glow that came from behind the dark curtains, John figured it was probably still early and since it didn't look like Paul was going to wake up any time soon, he decided he should try and go back to sleep. He shut his tired eyes and once again turned his attention to the light storm. He wanted to roll onto his side but his body felt so heavy, he couldn't be bothered to do it.

A few minutes had passed and just when he was on the verge of falling asleep, he heard the gentle rustle of the covers again. He didn't think much of it first, as he was now determined to return to whatever he was dreaming about a good 15 minutes ago.

However when the sounds turned into a slow, quiet but steady rhythm, he chose to take a look. Paul's eyes were still closed but there was an unmistakable movement going on under the sheets.

  
  
_Oh_.

  


Paul's right wrist was carefully moving up and down on his shaft, the outline of the action clearly visible through the sheets and he appeared to be in deep concentration, possibly trying to keep as silent as he could. The scene was so intimate and almost erotic, John's chest tightened and he felt that well-known heat appear down there. It seemed like his brain activated itself at a record speed and before he could have stopped himself, he nudged Paul's shoulder with his left foot. Shit.

"Stop it, will ya?" he tried to mutter it quickly, his voice almost cracking mid-sentence.

An annoyed groan came as an answer and Paul's face twisted into a grimace. Thank god his wrist stopped moving as well. John quickly averted his gaze from the spot, where the flatness of the blanket was broken by a familiar silhouette.

"Thought you were asleep." Paul sounded extremely hoarse, probably an effect of not only sleep but also the half pack of cigarettes they had managed to smoke last night. He lifted his hand to move the hair out of his face but his eyes remained closed.

"That doesn't make it any better, you know." John said in disbelief. He tried hard not to let the ends of his mouth curl up but he failed.

Before Paul could have answered a loud thunder interrupted their conversation. Both listened to the long, deep sound.

"Yeah, but at least it would have made it a little bit easier." a wry smile appeared on his face but it didn't seem like he was embarrassed about the situation.

John had to let out a small snort.

"Who was it then?" he inquired. 

Paul opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling in a comically dreamy way, with his arm tucked under his head.

"Bardot." he sighed.

John made a click sound with his tongue.

"You're so predictable."

Now this seemed to get Paul's attention as he turned his gaze at John.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he sounded serious but there was a smile on his face.

"Nothing. She would have been my first guess, that's all."

"Aye well. You're predictable as well."

Now it was John's turn to stare at the ceiling. He had a slight urge to adjust himself in his own pants, but he could resist it. It was now pouring down with rain outside, the raindrops sounded like thousands of tiny bullets on the roof. It seemed like the not so unusual, but still strange small talk was finished there.

That is until John heard Paul's hand wonder down again and the only appropriate reaction he could think of was a whispered "oi!" and a nudge with his foot again.

While Paul's own foot emerged from under the covers to return the favour, he also gave himself a short tug, and maybe, just maybe, John's eyes lingered a little too long on the sight.

"Stop bloody kicking me!" Paul said and John received a forceful kick to his shoulder.

"Well stop bloody wanking?!" John whispered loudly.

Another thunder.

"I'm not wanking, am I?" to emphasize his point Paul lifted up both his open hands, as if he were convicted of shop-lifting.

"Yeah, you're just gonna wait until I close my innocent eyes and then..." he dramatically threw his hands on his face to cover his eyes, an act which got a small laugh from Paul.

"You and innocence. A pair, never seen before." he snorted.

"Mimi said a halo had appeared above my head once." John said while peeking through his fingers.

"Poor old woman, it was probably just in her fantasies. She's always dreaming of having a normal, innocent son..." he paused and put his hands together. "Like me."

It was John's turn to muffle a laugh.

"Innocent and normal, what a joke! If only your dad knew what you are up to..."

"What am I up to?!"

"Oh, I don't know, tossing off next to sleeping, helpless people? It must be a crime."

"Not if I get away with it." winked Paul.

"I'll start a campaign to get you into prison." John squinted at him.

"Oh, wow. With friends like you, who needs enemies?" Paul said in an exaggerated, offended posh accent.

"Okay, I'll let you borrow my harmonica." John smiled. "And if you don't turn into a terrifying inmate, I'll pop by to visit you."

"I appreciate the gesture but I don't know if I'll need any visitation. Chances are high I'm gonna have my own band by then. I'll be just like Elvis." quietly he started to sing a few lines from 'Jailhouse Rock' in his mocking, deep Elvis voice.

John joined in with the star's usual, rapid hip and arm movements, which caused the mattress to rock slightly below them.

They kept fooling around for a while, performing their usual Elvis routine and eventually collapsed in fit of faint giggles.

''Yeah, that'll be me in jail. Maybe I'll win a talent contest in there.'' Paul said out of breath. After a long pause he continued. ''And now, go back to sleep."

"Wha- so you can have a session while I'm lying here?"

The image shouldn't have aroused John the slightest, but the familiar sensation in his stomach wouldn't budge. He reckoned it was probably because he hasn't had a good one since they had arrived, and therefore even just the mention of Bardot, Elvis and masturbation was enough to get him going.

"You don't have to lie here," Paul gestured with his head towards the door "you could wait outside."

"You're unbelievable." John shook his head. He rolled onto his side, an action which was greatly appreciated by his weary body, and while doing so he also managed to discreetly brush his right hand against shaft. Just a tiny touch to get rid of the discomfort.

Obviously, this didn't solve his problem and the fact, that his mind kept repeating the vivid image of Paul's hand moving beneath the sheets, was more than alarming.

Of course he had seen Paul grab his junk before, he had seen way too many people do that, but that was usually done as a joke. He didn't think much of it, he was doing that all the time as well. It was the usual schoolboy stuff, nothing too serious. And yes, a long time ago they had a few of those wanking sessions at Nigel's but that wasn't like this either. There were at least like 4 other people there, in almost complete darkness and at the end of the day it was just a big laugh, nothing more. And it's not like a few curious, stolen glimpses hurt anybody.

But this here, was a completely different setting. They were lying mere inches away from each other, while one large double blanket was covering both of them, so every movement Paul made, he could sense it, and probably vice versa, and the more John was thinking about it the more exciting he found it. It was like he could feel Paul's body heat, and the warmth generated by the two of them, was trapped under the duvet.

Plus to add onto that, Paul was sporting a hard-on, and very quickly, as a result of his train of thought, John's boxers became a little too tight as well.

The rain was still relentlessly pounding on the roof and John was now cursing himself for not having more self-control. It wasn't like he was 13 anymore, he should be able control his urges. He was desperate to find something else, something not arousing at all he could focus on, but wherever he looked in the small room, wherever he searched his brain, he kept bumping into flashing images of Paul's busy hand, and his attention would always return to the cramped situation that was going on in his own pants.

A quickie in the bathroom could fix his problem. It would count as a win for Paul though, wouldn't it? But maybe Paul was already asleep, since he couldn't hear any sounds coming from him. He could silently slip out of the room, tiptoe down the hall, and probably finish in a minute, so it wouldn't be suspicious at all. Just a usual bathroom break. With Mimi around he had to learn to be quiet, so he practically turned into a master of silent finishes. Yes, this could totally work out. He just has to be careful with the doors, because they are creaking so loud they are going to wake up everyone, downstairs included. The secrecy of his plan made him even more excited.

He was achingly hard now, and even the slightest touch would have been greatly appreciated by his member but still, he remained motionless and decided to wait a bit. Just to make sure Paul fell asleep again.

A few painfully long minutes had passed by. He was actually quite impressed with himself, for being able to hold it all back for so long and he figured he really earned a good wank. He was ready to go.

He was just about to slip his legs on the floor, when a small sound coming from behind him, made him stop in his tracks.

Surely not.  


The bastard.

The unmissable smooth shuffling of the sheets and the unmissable steady rhythm were back and even though Paul was probably trying his best to stay quiet, to John's ears the heavy, calculated strokes felt extremely loud and unignorable. He knew those moves too well, they always brought the most pleasure after a long wait, just what he would have needed right now too. The thought that Paul must have been in the same state as he was in, made his cock jump and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek in order to stop himself from releasing a pathetic whine.

Jesus.

He didn't know why all of a sudden, he was acting like this. Why did Paul have this effect on him, when wanking together wasn't an unusual thing for them, they had done it a dozen of times at Nigel's and just in general, they talked a lot about this stuff. Who they found attractive, Bardot, Lizzie, Sophie, that young buxom waitress who would always wink at them, Paul's ridiculous attraction towards the Queen, whom he still considered to be a babe.. They would look for dirty magazines, discuss masturbation techniques and their experiences with all the different girls, just like ordinary mates. And none of that felt off.

But this.. This seemed to be way too intimate. Listening intently to Paul's moves and breathing he felt like an intruder.

And more importantly, this wasn't supposed to turn him on.

He squeezed his eyes shut and thought hard about what he should do next, which was very unlike him. He could pretend to be asleep for a start? Or after Paul had finished he could act like something just woke him up and flee to the bathroom to have a wank there? He could also act like he didn't notice anything now and just casually slip outside with an excuse. ''I'm gonna get a glass of water, sore throat and all that.'', ''I need a bite, do you want something from the fridge?'' or ''Gonna take a shit, don't visit the bathroom for a while.''

Or…

He could join in.

Obviously of all the ridiculous ideas, this last one was the most welcomed by his pulsing dick. He doubted he had ever been this hard before.

He had to give in. 

Without another thought his left hand slowly slid down and relief engulfed him even before he could have given himself a pull. The first touch felt like an electric shock, which instead of killing him, brought him back to reality and made him feel alive again. God. 

At this point Paul must have noticed him, and although he didn't say anything, John tried not to let out any moans as he eagerly palmed himself through his boxers.

But it felt so amazing. He grasped himself hard, his fingers curling around his shaft and with each stroke he found it more and more difficult to remain soundless. Meanwhile next to him, seemingly unfazed, Paul kept his rhythm. His cock twitched in his hand.

The uncomfortable position and the fabric between his prick and his hand annoyed him. He needed more.

For a brief moment he forgot about Paul's presence and out of frustration he suddenly turned onto his back and shoved his right hand into pants. It didn't matter now.

"Giving in then?"

The cheek of him… After wrapping his hand around his bare member, John looked at his friend, whose eyes were closed but a bold smirk was glowing on his face.

"Well, you know that no one can resist Bridge. Not even me." He tried his best at keeping his voice casual, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "And it's not like you've given me a choice." he added.

Paul let out a breathy laugh at that.

"Just to repeat myself, waiting outside is still an option." he said.

Having a conversation this way was surreal, absurd and simply amusing to John. Their wrists were moving relentlessly inside their underwear, and clearly, talking wasn't an easy task to do in their state, but they were still fighting hard to sound casual, and act like this was an everyday situation.

''Yeah and while I'm outside I should also make you breakfast, right?''

Paul's eyes opened and John saw that his friend's gaze didn't land on his face first. It seemed like it took Paul several seconds to find John's eyes, the act making John's throat feel tighter, and his hand missed a beat.

''See, you're already getting the hang of it.'' said, almost panted, Paul.

Before John could have thrown a flippant answer into Paul's face, his eyes were once again closed. John gulped.

Eye contact was a dangerous thing and John was glad Paul broke it off. To have Paul stare at him like that was both arousing and somewhat embarrassing at the same time. Of course, the sheets were still covering him and it wasn't like they had never seen each other naked before, but he still felt exposed.

And if it was possible, this turned him on even more.

He quickly realized that this was way too much and he was way too close to an orgasm, which was pathetic, and if he wanted to save himself from an awkward early finish, he would have to slow down.

With his heart thumping, his hand inched down and he cupped his balls into his hand and started massaging them both. He wasn't sure this was helping him in any way, but at least it was something different.

He was tempted to look at Paul, no, he was tempted to _see_ Paul. His technique, his reactions... Involuntarily, he licked his lips.

He felt Paul move beside him and John carefully squinted at him. When Paul shifted towards the wall, John panicked for a second. What if he misread him?

However he noticed that Paul, just like him, was only searching for a better angle. Until now he was working with his right hand, which hadn't even occurred to John - but he made a mental note to himself that Paul could hold an impressively steady rhythm with his other hand too, which honestly, shouldn't have surprised him at this point - and now that he had more room, he finally switched to his left hand. Although there was a slight disappointment in John's head. If Paul had stayed where he was, John could have now felt as his arm was moving, as his elbow would have been just grazing John's calf, but he quickly, very quickly pushed the thought away, into the back of his brain, as far as he could, and instead tried to feel thankful, because touching, right now, would have been... too much.

Paul's jaw stiffened to repress any escaping sounds and pleasure spread all over his flushed face as his hand started to impatiently move up and down on his prick and John had to look away.

He quickly thought of Bardot, Cyn, Suzy, any girl, girls, the magazine they found in George's brother's room, tits, asses and more tits. He needed an image of a woman in his head, any woman.

Letting go of his balls, his fingers slightly brushed over his perineum and he decided to return to his shaft. He was sure he was breathing way too loud now. With long, fine moves he caressed the base and the head of his dick and while doing so, out of habit, he proceeded to spread the leaking precum all over his member.

This however, wasn't a well-thought-out idea. Faint, but obscene wet sounds filled the room, which caused John to slow down and his cheeks started to burn. Fucking hell.

He felt Paul move under the covers, cursing under his breath something inaudible, and John could imagine, hell, he could practically see how Paul must have spread his fluids with his thumb over himself and soon an odd, dirty duet was formed by the sounds of their slippery dicks.

This way he could hear well how Paul was alternating between long slow, and short fast strokes, but somehow he could still remain collected, or that's what he seemed to be like, compared to John, who was now a mess. He was falling apart very quickly. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he tried to hold back his moans, his hand rapidly, inconsistently moving on his cock.

A low hum came from the other end of the bed and John - through one eye - found himself glancing at his friend again, as Paul's right hand crept down south and landed over his balls. John could see that Paul's hairline was glistening with sweat, just like when they would be performing. He honestly felt like he was watching a show, an act, a concert, and he didn't want to be left out.

He shut his eyes and mimicked Paul and while his right hand relentlessly worked on his cock, with his left he was now fondling his balls through his pants and he felt dangerously close to cumming.

To John's ears the mixed wet sound of their hands sliding over their cocks, was possibly one of the most phenomenal things he has ever heard and of course it would be like this. Of course they would act like a duo, a two man band, the fucking Nerk Twins, moving in unison at one moment and then choosing different paths for a few seconds yet still remaining in a wonderful sync, only to finally reunite again with a lengthy, deep stroke, that felt like relief and torture at the same time. He let out an uncontrollable, small groan.

He couldn't keep this up much longer.

It was getting now too warm under the covers. With a careless tug, he pulled the sheets down to his stomach, exposing his naked skin, to which the chilly air of the room felt like a soft caress, and moved the waistband of his boxers to sit under his balls, clearing out the way for what was coming.

He stole a curious glance at Paul, only to notice that his friend was one step ahead of him. The blanket on Paul's side was already pushed down into a messy pile, which was resting on his thighs, blocking John's view of his friend's wrist. His taut, bare chest was heaving up and down only slightly, -the air trapped between his ribs-, indicating that he was close as well, and his stiff left arm was moving rapidly, as he pumped himself in an almost feral way.

Before John's gaze could have travelled upwards, he stopped himself and instead of looking at Paul's face, his eyes dropped onto himself.

His own cock was throbbing in his hand, furious, pink and burning, asking - no, begging for a release. More precum appeared at the tip and he vigorously smeared it over his hard-on. He has never found the sight of his own member so arousing.

A throaty, shaky breath left his mouth and he lost it. He didn't know whether it was an answer or it was just unintentional, but a deep, suppressed moan came from Paul, and this was what eventually, much to his shame, pushed him onto the edge.

His whole body tensed up and he threw his head back as he bit down on his lip.

With fast, violent jerks he was coming in a second, but as a result of his fumbling and his messy technique the first drops of semen scattered all over his stomach, some landing below his nipples.

Fuck.

He might have said that out loud.

Frustrated by his clumsiness, he swiftly grabbed himself harder, gasping as his fist mercilessly closed in an angry grip around his prick.

It was like the world had stopped existing around him, and with his heart skipping a beat, relief washed over him as he emptied himself.  
  
_Finally_.

Even though his prick became sensitive immediately after his orgasm he kept his fist closed around himself in a lazy but firm hold and it seemed like his brain momentarily shut itself off. His muscles felt drained and there was a tingling post-sensation in his stomach.

He soon became aware of how loudly he was panting. Involuntarily his tired eyes fell on Paul, whose hooded gaze was fixed on the ceiling. 

Paul was breathing vehemently through his nostrils and his chest was moving heavily. He was disheveled, cheeks rosy, forehead damp, but there was a satisfied look on his face. A droplet of sweat was making its way down on his jawline and John's eyes fell on the white streaks and dots on Paul's stomach before he realised that he was staring. Hoping that Paul didn't notice him, he quickly directed his attention to the mess on his own belly.

He let out an exasperated huff and his head sank into the soft pillow beneath him. He looked over at the bedside table, knowing that Paul's wrist watch would be lying on the edge of it.

''5:50.'' He muttered. He didn't really expect an answer from Paul though, this was merely an attempt to bring himself back to reality and maybe steer the situation into a normal direction.

His eyes scanned the floor. Some of their clothes were scattered on the old rug, and John reached down to pick up a white tank top to to the dirty job. He wiped his stomach, cock and hands off with it carelessly, not having the patience to be thorough. When he was finished he folded the top and handed it to Paul, avoiding his eyes.

John tucked himself back into his pants, enjoying the calming way the light fabric covered his sore member. Soon Paul cleaned himself up as well and John followed the white top with his eyes as it flew across the room and landed right in the corner.

''She's a classic, isn't she?'' Paul nodded with his chin towards John nonchalantly, a playful tone still present in his voice.

The wheels in John's brain were working hard to decipher what that question could have meant, but he failed to understand it.

''Who?'' he blinked.

''Bridge.'' Paul stated the obvious and raised an amused eyebrow.

''Oh.'' He mentally slapped himself. Of course. ''Yeah. Always a good one to go for.'' he winked as he forced a smile on his face.

He was grateful that Paul picked up the conversation where they left it off, but a twinge of embarrassment and guilt appeared in his chest. Only now had the realization hit in. But he didn't want to open that door yet, he would deal with this later. He draped the blanket over himself.

''I think I'll nod off for a while.'' he said around a yawn.

''And what about the breakfast in bed that you've promised me?'' Paul teased him.

''Oh, sod off. You should be the one bringing me some as an apology.''

''What should I apologize for?''

''Disturbing my sleep? I'm a wee lad who needs his rest if he wants to grow.'' he joked as he melted further into the mattress, wishing this conversation would end already.

''Sure you are.'' accepted Paul and he started to get up. ''I think I'll go for a walk.'' He said cheerfully, but his face was unreadable, and when John finally registered what he had said, Paul had already climbed out of the bed and was now rummaging through the pile of clothes on the floor, clad in his stripy boxers. John swallowed the lump in his throat. He thought of warning Paul that it was raining, but he realized that the rain has completely stopped now and the birds were loudly chirping outside. He was slow. John followed Paul with dazed eyes, as he was moving around energetically, - his broad shoulders and his lanky but elegant figure breaking the smooth shadows in the room -, not understanding how one could be so alive at this hour. Paul eventually found his trousers from yesterday and picked up a clean black t-shirt from his suitcase. Much to John's relief within a few seconds he was dressed.

''I take it you're not coming then.'' Paul said while buttoning up his slacks.

''Hm?'' For the thousandth time this morning, John hoped that Paul didn't catch him staring. ''Oh, I don't think so, no. Wake me up when breakfast is ready.''

Paul nodded and made his way to the door. Only then did John notice his friend's bare feet.

''Hey!'' he exclaimed, making Paul's hand stop on the doorknob. ''What about your shoes?'' he asked and pointed at the muddy pair that was lying on the ground.

Paul shrugged and with a smirk on his face he slipped out of the room soundlessly, leaving John abruptly with only his thoughts.  


His head felt dizzy and he was overtaken by a sudden wave of tiredness. His confused, crowded mind would have to wait. Glad to have the bed just for himself, he stretched his numb limbs out with a large yawn and with his heart racing in his chest he turned to his left side. The place where Paul had been lying was still warm and John felt like the heat of the sheets was burning his skin. Yet he made no attempt to move away.

He couldn't and didn't want to think about what just happened.

In a minute John was fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Any type of feedback is greatly appreciated.
> 
> :)
> 
> /English is not my first language, so if there are any big mistakes, please let me know./


End file.
